


The Gift Of Brokenness

by somethingclever



Series: Journeys end in lover's meetings [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BDSM AU, Depression era food obsession, Dom Steve Rogers, Grieving, M/M, Service Top, Sub Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-15 03:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18065735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingclever/pseuds/somethingclever
Summary: Steve Rogers is Captain America. Captain America is a Dominant.He couldn’t have had a Dom, so Steve Rogers couldn’t have been Bucky Barnes’ sub.  (Of course.)Grieving, Steve turns to Tony for comfort. What he gets is attitude, and that’s okay, too.





	1. Chapter 1

This new world was unbearable. Steve hated it with all the energy he could muster, when he wasn’t utterly apathetic.  
Bucky wasn’t his mate here; he was his best friend since childhood, which was true, he supposed. True enough. But no history book told about how Bucky held him, the one photo of him on his knees was not displayed anywhere – probably destroyed - and sometimes, Steve doubted his own memory. After all, he was a Dominant, himself, just… Bucky was a Dom’s Dom. Shield had taken the cord from his wrist when they’d thawed him. They must have thought it was too damaged for him to want, or that he shouldn’t have it - after all, they didn’t answer him when he asked for it, his fingers circling his wrist.  
Steve felt that loss, too, but what was one more cut amongst thousands?  
The battle against the chitauri woke him up a little- or, to be more accurate, fighting with Tony Stark and then seeing him fall from the sky woke him up a little.   
If ever a sub needed a hot bath and feeding, it was Stark, and it didn’t seem as if anybody was lining up for the job, according to the internet. He’d take it. Here Steve was, and there Tony was, and nobody would mind if Steve just - looked after him a little bit.   
Maybe get him some nice blankets. Lots of those. Jarvis - or, as Steve found himself thinking of him, the very persona of the internet - was decidedly helpful in providing him with delivery of soft, thick blankets. Some even had sleeves, and wasn’t that a kick?   
When he could take care of Tony, he felt peaceful. The pain backed off a little.  
Tony was demanding, careless, and amazing, in all the worst and best ways. He didn’t make Steve think of Bucky. (Steve doesn’t think of Bucky, he can’t, he won’t-) Steve will never feel like he did with Bucky again, never reach boneless floating- but maybe, even just for a little while… he’d be able to feel this peace, some calm, this horrible loud world would make sense, because Tony was louder than anything else in the world.  
He lied. He does think of Bucky, but just that maybe he understands how Bucky felt about him, the deep, possessive love that’s burning in his chest. Tony always looked at him with cool eyes and Steve feels that deep pain he must have given Bucky, refusing him all those years. Tony didn’t tell him no, so he kept trying to reach Tony, kept serving in all the ways he could.  
He can be patient, he can wait, and care for him without any expectations. Bucky did, Steve can do no less.  
He missed Bucky, but he loved his sub.   
So blankets, and food, and while he hadn’t been offered such closeness as to be able to put Tony in a nice hot bath and rub out his muscles afterwards, he had, to his secret embarrassment, put together a little basket of high-end soaps, oils, and towels for just that purpose, if it ever became available.   
“Okay,” Tony snarled at him, hands braced on either side of the bowl of pasta and sauce Steve had made him, staring at it with anger in his eyes. “First problem first. How the hell did you figure out my mom’s pasta?”

“Asked Jarvis your favorite food.” Steve smiled at him, hoping to get acknowledgment that he’d done well, that Tony liked it, maybe even a thanks- he didn’t need it, it was gift enough that Tony let him-

“Traitor,” Tony growled. “Second. Okay, I get it, you’re a Dom, congratulations, I’m sure some sub somewhere wants to worship your dick-” well. That was an image! “But I don’t need a Dom to tell me what to do. So stop.”

Shit. All he’d wanted to do was- 

Steve swallowed hard against the disappointment and loss building in his chest. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll stop.”

He did. 

Granted, that meant he also stopped having a hell of a lot of reason to get out of bed, and that wasn’t healthy, but fuck healthy, he’d been sick all his life, why should the serum fix everything?

But it wasn’t Tony’s fault, wasn’t Tony’s responsibility, and Steve just... he wanted. But Tony said no, he reminded himself when he got out of bed on the second day (at midnight) and washed and shaved and dressed and went to get food, noticing the coffee pot was empty. He could make more, drink a cup and leave it for Tony, and-

Tony said no, and Steve wasn’t an asshole. His mother had raised him better, she’d never raised him to force himself on a sub that didn’t want his attentions or protections. Want it or don’t, she’d remind him, and he’d echo the command back to her with a grin. 

Tony didn’t want him.

So Steve wouldn’t try to win him.

Shield had work. They’d keep him busy, and anyways, it was too soon after Bucky. It was improper for him to take a sub, just to make it hurt less.

Two days bled into a week, and Steve drifted a little more than he wanted to, but he was handling it. Visiting Phil in the hospital was pretty- it was pretty- it helped, maybe, or it was the worst thing in the world.

Not because he was close to Phil- he found the Agent to be off-putting, a little overly familiar and diffident at the same time- but because of Clint. Clint was devoted in the way Bucky had been, the ways Steve wanted to be and craved to have for himself again. Steve wasn’t sure who was who in their dynamic, and it didn’t matter, but still. Still.

He felt so lonely.

Well, then, get a hobby, the internet told him. 

Running seemed as good as anything else. He closed his laptop, put on shoes, and went outside before the sun was even up.

His fingers twitched with the need to make Tony a sandwich when he returned to the Tower and realized he hadn’t eaten all day (it was past two, he’d run that long?), and neither had the genius (he still kept tabs, how could he not?) and- and- and...

Tony might not mind if he was friendly? He could be friendly. He could sit and let Tony talk and that would almost be like having friends and people who liked him, even if Tony didn’t want to let him try-

Oh, shit, Tony was heading towards him, his face screwed up like he’d bit something sour, his eyes snapping fire - and Steve wanted to protest that he hadn’t done anything! Not a thing! He’d thought about things, and perhaps he shouldn’t even be asking Jarvis about Tony’s schedule, but-

“Made you something.” Tony pushed a... thing... into his chest and jumping back again, “It’s an art tablet, more like paper than most in shading and stuff, and you can go from digital to 3D to projected or- or, I know you like old school, but you can take this anywhere, on missions or whatever, and you can get it wet, or drop it, or anything except let Hulk play with it, and- why are you looking at me like that? Can’t tell me a sub’s never made you anything!” He fidgeted, snapping his fingers and palms together, nervous and showing it without shame. 

Tony let him see that it mattered, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

What a gift - and not just the tablet. Steve cradled it in his hands, careful, and smiled shyly, feeling unaccountably overwhelmed. “No,” he said. “No sub’s ever given me anything half as nice. Thank you, Tony. it’s really, really something.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Tony warned him, and Steve nodded, shrugging one shoulder, looking down again.

“You said no. Wasn’t expecting you to change your mind.” He’d hoped like hell, but hadn’t expected it one bit. They’d be friends though, he figured, and that would be enough.

“I wasn’t expecting you to take no for an answer,” Tony said wryly. Steve looked at him, no longer trying to look smaller or feeling uncertain, and rage swept into his soul. Tony had been afraid of him.

“Why the goddamn hell wouldn’t I? You got choices, I’m not it. You told me. That’s that. Dammit, I-” Tony was staring at him, breathing shallowly, eyes wide and dark, and- shit. He’d been looming; he’d just shouted and cursed at a sub. “I’m sorry, I’m not angry at you, not a bit,” he said. “I just- I can’t stand that people would do that. Wouldn’t listen to no, I mean.” Especially to you went unsaid, but sat companionably between them, carved into his chest.

“Cap,” Tony said, “First, how refreshing, you can swear! It’s like you’re a real boy!” Steve shuddered at that reference, at being reminded he wasn’t a person, but a puppet, dancing on strings. “Second, Dad told me you literally never took no for an answer.”

“S’different,” Steve growled, looking at the tablet again. “Orders from somebody thinking they can tell me what I can and can’t do? Oh, they’ll learn. But a no from a partner not wanting something? God, what kinda monster didja think I was?”

“A Dominant one,” Tony replied softly, and Steve tilted his head, frowning.

“I- I mean. I am. I am Dominant,” Steve said slowly, “But I’ve always, my bonding. I wasn’t. I, Ah, I- I get it. Subbing, I mean, it’s hard, and-” Tony was rolling his eyes, and Steve frowned- he did know. Tony might not remember he had - what was the polite phrasing now? Dammit. All that was coming to mind was sugar-sweet or demeaning. “I guess- we called it playing the sub, back then, but I wasn’t playing at it, but I-”

Tony’s eyes widened. “What’re you saying? What are you- you were married? You married Peggy, and she-”

Married Peggy?

Not even Tony knew the truth? That cut to the quick, that Howard’s obsession with him hadn’t included Bucky’s place in his life, hadn’t included the love of his life. Howard had known the truth well enough. After all, Steve had the recollection of talking to Howard as Bucky cradling his head to his knee, petting him with his collar loosened so Buck could touch his throat and neck, and-

His face was wet, Tony looked horrified, and Steve’s lungs closed, his stomach twisting itself up. This wasn’t- he couldn’t- “You didn’t know? How didn’t-”

He didn’t want to be here anymore, he wanted to go back, go back just six months, and this time... This time he’d do it right, he’d jump after his Dom. They’d fall together. 

Steve went to his knees, curling around his broken heart, the tablet forgotten as his hand curled around his bare wrist, grieving the loss anew.

^

...oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit, he was the worst, but- he didn’t know what he’d done, actually? Steve had just gone milk-pale, whispered, “You didn’t know? How didn’t-” and then cried out, like Tony had torn his heart out, falling on his knees, his hand squeezing his opposite wrist so hard Tony could see the bruise blooming around his fingers. He’d seen him grip his wrist before, when he was tired, when he wasn’t paying attention and when he looked at Tony, but not like- 

“C’mon, Cap,” Tony said. “Rogers. It’s not that- I probably knew, I just forgot?” Impossible, he would have known, and also, he never would forget. “Capsicle, calm- okay, okay, Steve, sir.” Ugh, honorifics still tasted like bile and brackish water. “You’re fine, okay? Please?”

Steve wasn’t looking at him, not really. He was looking through him, seeing nothing, tears pouring down his face. Terror tasted like dirty water on the back of his tongue, going down his throat. “You’re scaring me,” he whispered, the last bastion of defense against a Dom he had, a plea for mercy, and Steve didn’t even flinch, lost to whatever he saw that wasn’t Tony. His lips were trembling and a sob broke from his perfect, patriotic lips, the sound as unDominant as anything Tony himself had ever made.

Steve cried like a whipped submissive who’d lost their-

Shit, shit, shit! Tony backed away, sick to his stomach and scared, “Bruce!” He yelled, running for the elevator. “Jarvis, get Bruce, I think I, I think I broke Steve!”

Behind him, Steve let out a keening wail, a sound he’d never really- really heard, not outside a movie or the news, but recognized it for what it was, the cry of helpless, hopeless loss.


	2. Like it or don’t

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Past and future come together.

Bruce followed Tony to Steve, his cries familiar to both Bruce and Hulk, and he tamped down on Hulk’s distress- he couldn’t help Steve.

Nobody could help him, probably, but Bruce tried anyway, getting his hand open and off his now-crushed wrist- it would heal, but that didn’t make it not hurt- and pulled him up to hide his face in Bruce’s neck, gently stroking his fingers through his hair, rocking him.  Tony hovered in the background, disappearing and reappearing, wringing his hands and bringing an ever wider assortment of comfort items. Bruce wrapped Steve in the blanket, soft and worn threadbare, and put the thick leather cuffs on his wrists, because while Steve was a dominant, that cry, that high-pitched keen, that was one hundred percent bereaved submissive.

“I don’t think Steve wants any sweets, Tony,” Bruce said when he looked up again to find that every package of cookies, cakes, and fruits were now in the little hallway. “But thank you.”

“Did I,” Tony asked, looking guilty and frightened, “Did I hurt him, Bruce? I didn’t mean to.”

^

Tony set the last offering down, feeling it was stupid even as he did it, childish even, and he hid it under a bag of gingersnaps- Steve had been keening for forty minutes, sometimes sobbing bits of Irish too garbled for Jarvis to translate.

 

“Bucky.” Steve stopped that hideous sound, his voice raw and thick, “Is that a- he hated them, oh, I-” he reached around Bruce to take the battered old Bucky Bear from Tony’s pile of gifts, his desperate too-little-too-late-so-useless, Tony! Hail Mary.  “I was going to see him again,” Steve whispered. “But I woke up here, and everyone forgot him, and hates me, and I just wish- I want to go to him, so badly.” He looked up at Tony, cornflower blue eyes red-rimmed and lips trembling, and-

 

And holy shit. Tony knew some switches, sure, but it was always jarring to see one dynamic over the other, especially when he had never expected that Steve could even be a sub like him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tony said. “I didn’t know. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? We all- I think I know you, but I don’t, do I? I know things about you, but I don’t know you. Will you-” he shuffled closer on his knees- Steve reared back, wary, but Bruce’s hand on the back of his neck contained him because he let it, and Tony put his head on Bruce’s other shoulder, soaking up the safety and warmth of his friend, “Will you tell me about you? I didn’t realize-” Tony hadn’t realized he was a real person. He could be hurt.

 

“I-” Steve choked on the words, resting against Bruce again, comfortable under the blanket and in Tony’s borrowed cuffs, smiling at Tony through his tears, nuzzling against Bruce’s sturdy bulk like - well, not like a sub, he was a sub. Tony came around to snuggle against his side like he would with Pepper, with any sub who was in pain, “I had a- a bonding cord, and they threw it away before I woke up.  I guess because - because Captain America wasn’t bonded, I couldn’t be.”

 

Steve talked for an hour, and fell asleep with Bruce’s fingers in his hair, and Tony a warm solidness against his flanks. He slept deep and unbroken, even when Tony used the suit to pick him up and put him to bed.

 

He didn’t dream.

 

*

Tony tapped restlessly against the top of his workbench with a wrench, his mind whirling.

 

Steve had been married.  Was widowed. Was a switch. Was suicidal.

 

God, he’d been an idiot. What else was new? He couldn’t escape that, apparently, but at least he could acknowledge it. He’d been an idiot, and treated Steve like a Dom who was just after him because he thought it would be fun to get Tony to shut up.  

 

What did he even want? Ugh.

 

He wished there were sounds that expressed meaning to get information... right, because he did so well talking to people… he huffed, tossing the wrench for Dummy to play with, and headed up to the kitchen.  He wanted something to eat while he considered the possible ramifications of this new information. He would think about this, he wouldn’t just jump into anything without looking first, he was going to take his time and be thoughtful and-

 

Steve was in the kitchen, and any chance Tony had of taking things slow fizzled out under the raincloud that was Steve Rogers.

 

“What do you want?” Tony blurted out, and Steve blinked at him over a full bowl of cereal. “I mean, do you wanna scene? Do you wanna fuck a few times and then move on? Just once? Do you wanna tie me up and make me be quiet, what is it?”

 

Steve stared at him, his spoon poised midway between his bowl and mouth. Tony raised an eyebrow, tapping his fingers on the countertop, waiting and getting angrier every second. Why was he even considering this? One vulnerable episode unmade a meatball? Hardly!

 

“I’d like permission,” Steve said slowly, “To pay you attentions?”

 

“So, in future speak, you want to date?”

 

“I mean, yes, eventually, but you don’t seem ready to want me, so I wanted to just... pay attention to you, show you I can be...” Steve’s ears were fiery red but he plowed on, “I can be trustworthy and good for you. Worth dating.”

 

“You realize I’m the sub?”

 

“I couldn’t exactly miss it.” Steve smiled, warm and goddamnit why did that expression just make him want to see how Steve’s thigh would feel under his face?

 

“But you- ugh. Fine. Do what you want. No skin off my nose.”

 

Steve, for his part, looked triumphant, and stood up to...

 

Go make coffee, the way Tony liked it.

 

The fuck was this?

 

And that’s how it went. Steve made him custards, puddings, and roasts but never soup. Brought him toast with eggs and coffee, bought him shirts so soft even Tony was impressed, lifted things for him so Tony didn’t have to use a winch or support system, and listened to him talk.

 

That last one was the one Tony couldn’t believe.  Nobody liked him talking so much, except maybe Rhodey- Pepper didn’t dislike it, she waded through it, and Rhodey could almost- when he had enough caffeine and adrenaline - keep up.

 

Steve neither waded, nor tried to keep up. He listened. He remembered. And sometimes, he answered.Tony was usually surprised by how much he wasn’t wrong.  He told him so, and felt warmth blossom in his chest as Steve preened like a goddamn peacock.

 

“I don’t sleep well,” Tony told him, wrist deep in servos and gears.

 

“I don’t either.”

 

“I can’t have water on my face.”

 

“I don’t- I don’t like to be cold.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I’m broken and the shittiest sub in the world.”

 

“Nah.”

 

“That’s all you’ve got? ‘Nah’?”

 

Steve considered, pursing his lips, opened his mouth and looked sideways at Tony, eyes bright and dancing. “Yup.”

 

“Nah. The man says nah. So articulate. Really? That’s it?”

 

“What, you want me to tell you why, so you can refute my points and prove me wrong?” Steve asked, and Tony gasped at him.

 

What.

 

What.

 

How even.

 

“You’re terrible.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“‘Nah’, how can you even... I can’t handle that.  What is wrong with you? Don’t you know how this- this works? I’m the worst- I’m horrible, and I’m going to let you down-”

 

“Tony,” Steve said, his voice soft and warm. “Nah. You’re my Tony.”

 

His Tony? Just Tony?

 

“Hey, Doll.” Steve reached out for him, touching his shoulder with two fingers- so close to the nape of his neck, to intimacy, but respectfully distant. “Like it, or don’t, Tony.”

 

“It’s-” Tony swallowed, looking at Steve’s wrist, close enough to press his mouth to, to taste. “It’s ‘like it or not’, Cap.”

 

“What?” Steve pulled back, eyes wide ― see? Worst. I can ruin a Dom without even getting on my knees, Tony thought. “No, that’s a terrible saying- people don’t say that anymore?”

 

“I’ve never heard it. What’s it mean?” He reached for a wrench, sure the moment was broken, as Steve’s hand closed around his own wrist, too tight for comfort.

 

Steve shook his head. “It’s when- when you go on a date with a sub you’re talking to, maybe playing with, but don’t have an agreement yet. It’s the greeting, before you can kiss- you command to protect the sub, say, like what I tell you to do, do it, if you don’t, don’t do it. Really? Nobody does that?”

 

Tony shook his head, not able to look him in the damned eyes, his stomach slowly flipping itself over. He’d turned down the Dom, done it rudely, without even realizing or calling him by a proper name.

 

He was the worst.

 

“Like it or don’t, Tony.” There was no mistaking the command for what it was, and- what. What, he was offering again? Tony nodded, just barely, playing with the wrench and hoping to God he didn’t do something stupid and useless, like cry.

 

“C’mere, pretty one, I want to hold you.”

 

He looked up at Steve, then down at himself- but he had grease on him, and sweat, and- and Steve was smiling, waiting, his arm held from his side and other hand patting his leg in invitation.

 

“I’m all dirty.”

 

“I don’t care,” Steve said gently. “And anyway, do you really need to decide what I want?”

 

“No?” Tony guessed as he was guided to sit on Steve’s knee.

 

“No,” Steve confirmed, petting his hair gently, weaving his fingers into it and tugging gently.  

 

That was nice.

 

Really nice.

 

It was possible he was melting.

 

Steve held him and coddled him ridiculously, and Tony drifted along in the lightest subspace he’d ever encountered, a nice buzz under his skin, a comfortable daze, where Steve and only Steve mattered- and Steve didn’t want him to be quiet, so this wasn’t hard.

 

It was so hard to be good, and be quiet, or still, so very hard, he couldn’t float if he was still and quiet.  “Of course you can’t,” Steve said. “But you’re being good now, Tony, so good.”

 

Why yes, yes, he was, and he was also smiling like an idiot and didn’t care.

 

Tony woke up, four hours later, in a full-blown panic.

 

He’d slept.

 

He had fallen asleep.

 

He’d slept, and he was all curled up like a stupid kitten against Steve’s hip, and had his head on Steve’s thigh, and he had fallen aslee- hnnngh.

 

Steve’s big hand was around the back of his neck, cradling him, holding him contained but not still, and oh god, oh god, he hadn’t meant to. And what did Steve do while he was sleeping?

 

...he was still dressed. Still dressed. Okay.

 

Okay, he was okay, and Steve was holding him but not holding him still, gentle and he wasn’t commanding him, and-

 

“Shhhh, Tony, honey, you’re here, you’re safe, nobody’s hurting you.”

 

Stupid Dom, stupid stupid stupid-

 

“So,” Steve said, “Let me tell you about the first time Bucky ever commanded me. I didn’t know I was a sub - his sub -  and neither did he. He told me not to speak to him anymore. It was like he’d taken my voice. I was terrified. I didn’t understand what was happening.  My mother figured it out, because Bucky got sick. I don’t know what I did that’s making you feel this way, but I want you to know, whatever command it is, I’m taking it back, okay?”

 

Tony hissed at him, “I fell asleep, I- I- shouldn’t, not with you, not for you-”

 

“Ah.” Steve nodded, opening his hand, “I just held you. You seemed comfortable, so I just let you sleep. That’s all.”

 

Tony bit his lip, wiping at his eyes furiously. “I don’t- I don’t like-”

 

“I didn’t command it,” Steve said, “You just fell asleep while you were under. I wouldn’t do that. Easy, honey, you’re okay. Can I touch you?”

 

“Why not?” Tony barked a bitter laugh.

 

Steve waited.

 

“Yes,” Tony replied.

 

Steve held his neck again, gently, and Tony grabbed onto his wrists, shivering. He was crying. Fuck. He couldn’t handle it.

 

This was one of the reasons he was such a shitty sub, so needy-

 

“Can I get you something to eat?”

 

Food?

 

No.

 

He didn’t want... “Maybe custard if you have any left?”

 

“Mm,” Steve’s smile spread across his face, “Yes.”

 

“That might be nice.”

 

Tony had eaten two bowls of custard and a cup of coffee when he realized he wasn’t shaking anymore, or scared, and he glanced at Steve- and Steve was smiling at him, fond and pleased, and Tony ducked his head, smiling into his bowl.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Mm.” Steve’s smile got even bigger, “Thank you. That was nice.”

 

“Even with the freakout?” He toyed with his spoon, looking down.

 

“Honey, you went to sleep in subspace, and woke up next to me, hungry, and under-caffeinated. You were always gonna be a little shaky.  Now, I bet you you’ll have an easier time next time- I mean-” He looked uncertain, Tony thought, watching him. “I mean, if you’d do me the honor of allowing me. Again. If you wanted.”

 

Tony smiled. “I’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, FreyaS for the beta! I hope everyone enjoys this section- next chapter will post next week. 
> 
> Please forgive typos- I write and post exclusively on my phone. Teeeeny tiny keyboard from hell.


End file.
